


you are perfect porcelain

by Chiti



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, child abuse mention, fuck yoshio, kyouya's dad is an asshole, not heavily just the fact that yoshio hit kyouya in ep 25, post- episode 26, seriously, they will become lovers in later chapters do not worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3437369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiti/pseuds/Chiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamaki and Kyouya inadvertently have a Moment. It's not the first time that this has happened, but, this time, it spawns a whole shit ton of other Moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are perfect porcelain

“We should get some ice for your cheek, Kyouya.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

The place where his father had slapped Kyouya has changed from dull pink to a blue and purple spot, discoloring the flesh of his cheek. It’s been twenty minutes since Tamaki had come into Kyouya’s room, and it’s obvious he still can’t look at the imperfection blooming on his friend’s face without feeling his stomach contract in a painful way.

 

Kyouya finally swivels his head away from the screen of the laptop he’s been typing on nonstop for the last few minutes. “It doesn’t hurt, and I won’t be able to type if I’m holding ice to my cheek.” He manages to keep his voice as steady as he can throughout, and he thinks he probably could’ve fooled Tamaki into leaving him alone if he hadn’t reached up to readjust how his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.

 

When his hand brushes the violet mark, it sends a flash of pain flooding through his head, and he can’t stop his teeth from gritting and his face from contorting into a wince. He glances at Tamaki, who’s sitting on the foot of his bed, and realizes that Tamaki had seen the pain that crossed his face, and in turn saw cleanly through the indifferent facade. “I’m getting you ice!” Tamaki all but flings himself off the bed and through the door and the sound of his footsteps dull before Kyouya lets himself drop his face to his hands and pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation. _There’s really no need for him to be here,_ Kyouya thinks, _but I can’t seem to tell him to leave._

 

Tamaki comes bounding in a few minutes later, with a forced smile and an ice pack. He doesn’t say anything else, just kneels down on the mattress and presses the ice to the bruise, making Kyouya startle and shift away with a hissed, “What are you doing!?” Since Tamaki was still leaning towards him, their faces have gotten close, and Kyouya finds himself only inches away from his friend.

 

He has, on a logical level, always known that Tamaki was exquisitely beautiful. It’s the reason he gets so many customers at the host club- the reason that so many of the girls at the academy flush and look down after meeting his gaze. He has always known that his friend was beautiful, but this is new. Attraction isn’t foreign- he is, whether he frequently acts like it or not, a seventeen year old boy; nor is attraction to men- he’s known he was bisexual since the 3rd year of middle school, he’s come to terms with it and left all remnants of a Gay Crisis firmly in the past.

 

However, he’s never thought like this about Tamaki. He’d always just thought of his eyes as purple, and _isn’t that odd? Thats a rare color, you don’t see that every day_  (unless of course, you’re like Kyouya, and you have to deal with the Suoh heir on a daily basis). Now, as he stares into Tamaki’s eyes, he can only see flowers - orchids - a hundred shades of purple, shining in the dull lamplight of the room. He used to think of Tamaki’s fine features as fortunate, convenient for making money at the host club; as of this moment, he’s struck still by how absolutely _magnificent_ Tamaki is.

 

It strikes him suddenly that this is probably an odd length of time to make eye contact with someone who’s only a few inches away you, and wonders briefly if it’s possible to get a concussion from getting slapped.

 

Then, it hits him that Tamaki has always been exceptionally perceptive when it comes to Kyouya and he might be able to see all the thoughts flooding his brain- he might hate him for it; he might just get up, ignore it and leave Kyouya dangling there, in the abyss of the Holy-Shit-I-Might-Be-Gay-For-My-Best-Friend revelation. A dozen outcomes flow through his mind, but what actually happens shocks him like a theoretical slap to the face, pun not intended.

 

Tamaki, moving slowly, pushes back on Kyouya’s shoulder with one hand, the other pushing the laptop away from them, before he moves forward to straddle thin hips. He’s rather heavy for having such a slight build, and Kyouya can’t tell if his rapid breathing is from Tamaki sitting on him or from the gorgeous way his friend’s blonde hair seems to glow in the dim light.

 

Tamaki starts to lean forward, hands braced on either side of Kyouya’s head, while Kyouya is still mentally questioning whether he’s imagining this whole thing or not. It’s a bit funny, as Kyouya’s usually the one that knows what’s happening. He tends to think of his and Tamaki’s friendship as that of a master and his overexcited dog, the former being dragged forward by the leash in spite of his best efforts to control the latter. It’s in equal parts fascinating and irritating how easily Tamaki seems to take the lead.

 

He’s halfway to Kyouya’s lips when he jumps back, startled, and looks around, and only then does Kyouya’s thudding heartbeat subside enough to let him notice that his phone is ringing. He pats down the blankets on his bed before he finds his phone and flips it open.

 

“ _Kyouya_.” His father’s voice sounds tinny through his cell phone speaker, but it’s obviously clear enough for Tamaki to decipher who it is, because he gets a look on his face of utter  _disgust_. “I need to talk to you.”

 

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” he flicks the phone closed with nimble fingers, and Tamaki is still looking shocked as Kyouya pulls himself upright and sits up, running his fingers through his hair. He pushes one hand in his pocket and lets the other one hang by his side in forced nonchalance as he turns around and walks out of his room with only a quiet hum of acknowledgement when Tamaki whips around, cheeks still a flaming red.

  
It takes all his strength, but he manages to at least make it to the end of the hall and turn out of anyone’s sight before collapsing against the wall to let himself breathe heavily in the revelation of _holy shit, I am most definitely gay for my best friend_.

**Author's Note:**

> tamaki, you make kyouya's kokoro do dokidoki.
> 
> thanks for reading, maybe leave kudos/a comment if you enjoyed it and want it continued
> 
> work and chapter title taken from marianas trench's song, porcelain
> 
> find me on twitter at @nezushions or tumblr at nonbinaryedwardelric.tumblr.com to discuss this mess of a fic/tamakyo in general
> 
> btw if you're thinking "hey ct, shouldn't you be working on that college au sebaciel fic you abandoned 2 months ago instead of starting some new stuff?" know that the answer is yes i should but i am a piece of noncommittal garbage
> 
> blame maggie for slingshotting me back into tamakyo hell and ruining my life (jk bab ily)


End file.
